you blasted with antiquity? and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, sir John!

Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and something a round belly. For my voice, I have lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not the truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding; and he that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box o'the ear that the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible lord. I have check'd him for it; and the young lion repents: may, not in ashes, and sackcloth; but in new silk, and old sack

Ch. Just. Well, heaven send the prince a better companion!

Fal. Heaven send the companion a better prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.

Ch. Just. Well, the king bath sever'd you and prince Harry: I hear, you are going with lord John of Lancaster, against the archbishop, and the earl of Northumberland.

Fal. Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it.

But look you pray, all that kifs my lady peace

you

at home, that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, an I brandish any thing but my bottle. I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever: But it was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If will needs say, I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to God, my name were not so terrible to the ene

you

my as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with rust, than to be scour'd to nothing with perpetual motion.

Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; And God bless your expedition!

Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish me forth?

Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Commend me to my cousin Westmoreland.

[Exeunt Ch. Just. and Atten.] Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy!

Page. Sir?

Fal. What money is in my purse?

Page. Seven groats and two-pence.

Fal. I can get no remedy against this consump tion of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this to the earl of Westmoreland; and this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin: About it; you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my great toe. It is no matter, if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable: A good wit will make use of any thing; I will turn diseases to commodity.

SCENE III.

York. A Room in the Archbishop's Palace.

Enter the Archbishop of York, the Lords HASTINGS,
MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH.

1

And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes:
And first, lord msrshal, what say you to it?
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our

arms;

But gladly would be better satisfied,
How, in our means, we should advance our

selves

To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the king.
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the
file

To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose boson burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.

Bard. The question then, lord Hastings,
standeth thus;

Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
Hast. With him, we may.

Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point;
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My jugement is, we should not step too far
Till we had his assistance by the hand:
For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise

Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.

1

Arch. Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed,

I was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. Bard. It was, my lord; who lin'd himself with hope,

Eating the air on promise of supply,
Flattering himself with project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:
And so, with great imagination,

Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And, winking, leap'd into destruction.

Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did

hurt,

To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.
Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war;
Indeed the instant action, (a cause on foot)
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove
fruit,

Hope gives not so much warrant, as .despair,
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to

build,

We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection: Which if we find outweighs ability,

What do we then, but draw anew the model In fewer offices; or, at least, desist

To build at all? Much more, in this great

work,

(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down, And set another up,) should we survey

The plot of situation, and the model;
Consent upon a sure foundation;

Question surveyors; know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else,
We fortify in paper, and in figures,

Using the names of men instead of men:
Like one, that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half
through,

Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost.
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely of
fair birth)

Should be still-born, and that we now possefs'd
The utmost man of expectation;

I think, we are a body strong enough,

Even as we are, to equal with the king.
Bard. What is the king but five and twenty
thousand?

Hast. To us, no more; nay, not so much,
lord Bardolph.
divisions, as the times do brawl,

For his

Are in three heads :

French,

one power against the

And one against Glendower; perforce, a third
Must take up us: So is the unfirm king
In three divided; and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.

Arch. That he should draw his several
strengths together,

And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.

Hast. If be should do so,

He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and

Welsh

Baying him at the heels: never fear that.

Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces

Hast.

hither?

The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland:

Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Mon.

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